


For the Love of Salazar

by KenzieMa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Dark Harry, Dark Lord Harry Potter, Hermione Granger Bashing, Immortality, M/M, Master of Death, Past Child Abuse, Ron Weasley Bashing, Slash, Third Wizarding War, Time Travel, cannonical up to right after the battle of hogwarts, changing the future, non-epilogue compliant, soul bonds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-08-30 05:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8519815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenzieMa/pseuds/KenzieMa
Summary: There is another war raging. This one being the ministry vs. every witch, wizard and creature they deemed “Dark”. Due to his social standing as the vanquisher of Voldemort, Harry had too much political power for their liking, so he was one of the first on their list. They called him the next Dark Lord and like always, the sheeple believed it. Ron, as he often did in school, dropped him when the press got too bad and his wife-to-be stood by him. Harry, left to fend for himself without either of his best friends, tries to solve the conflict alone. Realizing that nothing but another war will stop the ministry, he embraced the title bestowed upon him by the Daily Prophet, Dark Lord Markandeya. He fully embraced the dark side of himself. This began when he was 18. At 23, five years into the war he is looking for artifacts for the Dark to use, in the DOM when he was caught by some Unspeakables. The duel is in the room of Time and, after an accident, he ends up in the Founder’s era. Harry ends up looking for help at Hogwarts and Salazar ends up working with him to change the future for the better.





	1. Turning back the clock

**Author's Note:**

> Here goes another fic that my brain conjured in the middle of class. Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> JKR has all rights to the Harry potter franchise.

He had been so close to getting away when it happened. It was his own mistake really, he had assumed that his stunner would be strong enough to keep the unspeakable down and had turned his back to him. Thanks to too many years spent dodging curses, the blasting curse missed him by inches. It did not, however, miss the case of artifacts behind him. The only thought that crossed his mind as the cloud of Sand of Time washed over him was ‘shit’. 

 

The sickening swirl of colors along side the suffocating pressure of magic around him, managed to knock him out cold. When he finally regained consciousness he immediately checked to make sure he was a) in one piece b) still carrying all of his necessities and c) not in the vicinity of any enemies. He was relieved to find that, not only had he somehow managed to survive the trip unscathed, but all of his things had as well. Both his holly wand and the elder wand were in their respective holsters on his forearms, his bag was in its usual place strapped to his outer thigh and all of his clothing seemed to still be on his person. With both A and B out of the way, he bagan to double check C. Task C was really a measure stemming from extreme paranoia, seeing as his training would have made him aware of any other persons in his vicinity. Despite this, he still checked. 

 

He had arrived in what appeared to be a castle keep of some sort, which really did not bode well for him. He had hoped that he would end up somewhere in the recent past, but if the ministry of magic was still not built, then he had to be sometime before the 13th century. It was the middle of the night, so there were no other people out of doors, leaving him to study his surroundings in solitude. He allowed himself five minutes to be awed and terrified by his predicament before clamping down on both of the useless emotions and beginning to plan. 

 

He could not stay here. These people would be muggles and by his estimate of the century, they would probably attempt to burn him atop a pyre for being a wizard. Really, his best bet would be to find Hogwarts. The school was built in the early thirteenth century, finished in 1204 if he remembered from Hermione’s many rants on the subject, so if he was lucky, it would already have been built, or would be in the process of being built. Decision made, he imagined, not the school itself, trying to go someplace that had yet to be built was a good way to get splinched, but instead to a clearing he knew of in the forbidden forest. 

 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he arrived at the intended destination in one piece. Making quick work of his three steps, and finding himself alone, he withdrew his holly wand and muttered “Point me to Hogwarts.” He grinned triumphantly as the wand immediately spun and pointed off to his left. 

 

He followed his wand through the thick underbrush of the forest, staying as silent and alert as possible in case he was found by any of the forest’s inhabitants. While he was perfectly capable of handling anything the forest might have to offer, he would really rather not have to fight for his life a second time that day. 

 

Harry let out a sigh of relief as he stepped out of the forest and saw the fully constructed form of Hogwarts in front of him. When he came upon the wards he almost moaned at the sheer power radiating off of them, it was very nearly intoxicating. Harry would bet his left testical that these had been set very recently, meaning the founders were most likely still in residence. 

 

While Harry had never been one to appreciate books in school, in more recent years he had acquired some on the founders and their work and they were some of the most groundbreaking witches and wizards of their time. Hell, some of Rowena’s work was still groundbreaking nearly a thousand years in the future. So the prospect of meeting them had him giddy in a way that made him think, albeit painfully, of Hermione. 

 

While Ron’s betrayal had hurt, it had been somewhat unsurprising. Hermione’s choice however, had gutted him. In reality, had she not, he probably would have been much more hard pressed to take up the mantle as the next Dark Lord and dive head first into the next war. But she had, and he did, so there was no use getting all weepy over it now. He once more clamped down on his more turbulent emotions and made his way to the castle gates to ask for entry to the school. 

 

He ran a hand over the wards as he walked the school’s perimeter towards the gates. One of the many things Harry had found about himself when left to fend for himself, was his magic sensitivity. It was a skill only for those born with power, and as the magical equal of Tom Riddle, who had been arguably stronger than even Albus Dumbledore, Harrison James Potter was quite the powerhouse. This sensitivity, when honed, allowed Harry to see magical auras, sense magical presences in his direct vicinity and best of all, he could practically  _ read  _ wards. Now, this specific talent came both from his sensitivity and his considerable skill in ward weaving and ward breaking, something that tended to come in handy in his line of work. He could feel out a set of wards, as he was doing now, and decipher what exactly the wards were placed for. It took a considerable amount of time and focus. On the long, quiet walk to the school’s entrance he had both.

 

By the time he had arrived at the large iron gates he was once again in awe of the founders ingenious. These wards were some of the most complex and powerful that he had ever come upon, including the school’s wards back in his time. Too many future headmasters had tried to ‘better’ the wards, only to weaken them. If these wards had still been standing on the day of the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort’s army would never have gained entry. 

 

Harry was in no way surprised to find someone waiting for him at the gates. The wards would have made the Headmaster, or in this case, the founders, aware of the rather powerful magical being feeling them up as he made his way to the gate. A man stood like a statue in front of the gates, his aristocratic face looked on impassive, grey eyes calculating as they observed the strange wizard approaching him. He wore an elegant set of dark green and grey robes fitting for the time period, which, if Harry was being honest, didn’t differ much from the robes worn by the likes of Lucius Malfoy in the future. 

 

It was only then that Harry paused to consider how strange his own outfit would appear, strange and vaguely threatening. He wore black muggle cargo pants with a short sleeved black turtleneck. Both of his wands visibly strapped to his forearms. He looked like someone prepared for a fight, which he had been, going to the ministry. Even if his attire wasn’t bad enough, the mask he wore most certainly did not help his case. It wasn’t much, just a black half mask covering the bottom half of his face. He had taken to wearing it, as opposed to the full masks the rest of his ilk wore, for the sole purpose of fucking with his enemies heads. With the mask only covering half his face, and his long hair tied up in a high ponytail, his infamous scar was on display in a way that he would have hated as a teenager. But is served a purpose. It stood as a reminder that not even the killing curse could stop him, when faced with Harry Potter, your best bet was to run. That didn’t mean that the ministry hadn’t attempted to  _ capture  _ him at every opportunity, but it was effective in enough cases for him to make the effort. 

 

Sadly for Harry, in 1204 his scar meant nothing to anyone, or so he thought. To Salazar the red scar that stood out on alabaster skin took the form of the celtic rune Eihwaz, the rune of junctions, endings, transformation, death and rebirth. It was not something to you would normally find carved on someone’s head. That coupled with the man’s gloriously dark and powerful aura was both terrifying and terribly arousing. He drew his wand just in case this confrontation went poorly. The man in front of him was like nothing or no one he had ever come across before, and Salazar was a very well traveled man. The clothing he wore was strange, as was the odd dark leather bag strapped to his thigh. 

 

Not wanting to be seen as an immediate threat, Harry slowly lifted an arm to remove his mask, do so in a manner obvious enough that the man at the gate would not think him to be attacking. The face revealed was as still and emotionless as the one observing him. Striking killing curse green eyes met grey as Harry finally made eye contact with his greeting party. The man, perhaps tired of waiting for Harry to do something, finally broke the silence with a question. 

 

“Cò a tha thu agus dè tha thu ag iarraidh an sgoil againn?” Harry just sighed at his idiocy. Of course they wouldn’t speak english, or if they did, not his modern english. He knew a handy translation charm, but he was unsure if he would be allowed to cast it without repercussions. He decided to speak first, to show in some way the dilemma Harry was having. He recognized the language as Gaelic, as he knew quite a few spells in the tongue, but not enough to respond to the man’s question in the language. 

 

“We do not speak the same tongue.” Harry saw the confusion in the man’s eyes. Even if he spoke English, he most likely only understood half of what Harry said. Harry put his hands up in the universal gesture for ‘I mean you no harm’ before slowly removing his holly wand and pointing it at his own forehead. The man tensed a bit when he had drawn his wand, but relaxed again when it was pointed not at him, but at the wand’s master. “ _ Discere Scotica”  _ Harry murmured with a flick of the wand. He felt a wave of magic wash over his mind, leaving him off kilter for a few moments. Once he regained his bearings, he once more sheathed his wand. “Can you understand me now?” Despite thinking in English, Harry could feel the foreign Gaelic words roll off his tongue, it really was quite the ingenious spell. The more he spoke the language while under the effects of the charm, the better he would be able to understand and hear the difference in languages. 

 

“Yes, though your accent is strange. I will ask again, who are you, and what do you want with our school?” Harry perked up at the use of ‘our’. He had assumed the founders were much older when they built the school, but if Harry’s guess was correct, the man in front of him was one of them. Both his attire and his aura screamed poise and aristocracy, so he would bet his left testicle that if this was one of the two men that built the school, this would be Salazar Slytherin. 

 

“You are one of the founders of Hogwarts then?” Grey eyes narrowed at Harry’s avoidance of the questions asked. 

 

“Yes, I am Salazar Slytherin. How do you know of our school? We have been open barely two years and you are not of these parts.  _ Who are you? _ ” Salazar was quickly growing more and more wary of the man in front of him. The longer he stood in front of him he grew into more and more of a puzzle. Salazar normally loved solving puzzles and the one in front of him was wrapped in a very pretty package. Even without the swirling dark aura, the man looked like sin personified. His skin-tight shirt clung closely to a very well built torso. He would not be surprised to find legs in a similar state of fitness. Though it was the man’s face that drew him in further. The violent green almond eyes were slanted and belayed sharp intelligence. Even before the mask was removed they had enthralled him. When his full face had been unveiled Salazar had struggled to hide his interest.  Sharp cheekbones and thin nose spoke of aristocratic ancestry, as did the positively sinful full dark lips. Had the situation of their meeting been different, Salazar may have pursued the green eyed beauty. As it stood, he was prepared to kill him if it was necessary to protect their school. 

 

“I apologize, you have asked me that three times now.” He was not intentionally baiting the founder, he merely was unsure how he should answer the question. It could pose problems for his future self if there was a Harry James Potter mentioned in conjunction to the founders in any literature, so he needed an alias. Markandeya had been his title as Dark Lord, seeing as the Dark Lord Harry Potter had sounded quite ridiculous. His chosen name meant ‘Conqueror of Death’, something rather fitting for Death’s Master. It was quite plausible for the future him to have just so happened upon the name when choosing his new title, so there should be little confusion in the future. Despite this, he had rather missed going by his actual name in recent years, so perhaps…

 

“You may call me Harrison Markandeya.” The next question posed a similarly distressing question, how much did he tell the founders. He was far enough in the past that telling them shouldn’t alter his future, no more than his very presence in the past might. That considered, he decided to tell the truth. Weather or not they believed him was another matter entirely. 

 

“The reason for both my knowledge of your school and my intentions for coming here are one in the same. I have been displaced from my time, far in the future I was a student at your school. I knew upon arriving in this time that you were most likely my best chance at finding other magical beings in this era. You said you opened it two years ago, that makes it about 1204 by the roman calendar, correct?” A rather gobsmacked Salazar nodded in conformation, having been rendered speechless by Harrison’s claims. “Well then, I have traveled from about eight hundred years in your future.” It was rather mind boggling to say out loud. Eight hundred years in the past, and he was stuck here. 

 

Salazar did not stay speechless for long. “You mean to tell me you survived an eight hundred year long trip through time? The magic required for that should have ripped you to pieces.” Harry shrugged, a little uncomfortable at the thought of being torn apart like that. It did explain why Harry was the only one here, the man who broke the glass must not have survived the trip, as most other mortal men would not have.

 

“There are… extenuating circumstances… that allowed for me to survive. While I am looking for your help, I do not feel comfortable baring all of my secrets to you.” Salazar nodded in acceptance of this, he would probably act in a similar fashion were it him in this position. Despite it being wildly unlikely, the explanation did explain most of the confusing things about Harrison Markandeya. The language he spoke was not any he had ever heard, though it had resembled English, eight hundred years would explain the difference there. His clothing was nothing like any he had seen anywhere in the world during his travels. It did not explain the man’s aura or the strange scar on his forehead, but of all the possible explanations, this one actually made the most sense. So unless given proof to think otherwise, Salazar decided to take the man’s words as truth, what motive would he have to conjure up such a tale otherwise. 

 

“If I am to grant you entry to the school I need a vow on your magic that you will not harm any of it’s inhabitants without provocation and a promise to tell me exactly how you ended up so far from your time, I’m sure it is quite the story.” The wary gleam had not left Salazar’s eye, but the previously repressed desire to solve the, now even more enticing, puzzle before him was allowed to come out and play. 

 

Harry himself was a little wary of the new, almost predatory, gleam in Salazar’s eye at the prospect of discovering his past. If spilling his guts to at least one of the founders was what it took to get the help he needed, Harry was willing to divulge some of his thrilling past. Nodding in understanding to the young founder, Harry made his vow. Frowning, he realized he would have to use his full name, which included his given name and his various titles to do so. Knowing he would have to explain his titles after, he sighed and began. 

 

“I Harrison James Potter, Lord Markandeya, Lord Potter, Lord Black, Lord Peverell, Lord Gryffindor-” Salazar raised an eyebrow at that. “-Lord Slytherin,” The other eyebrow joined the first up near Salazar’s hairline. “Swear on my magic that I shall not harm any of the castle’s inhabitants without provocation, so mote it be.” The magic that had lazily built up around Harry as he spoke flashed bright white before dissipating. “And I give my word to explain my arrival to this era to you.” No magic met this promise, as it was solely given as a spoken promise, but the look in Harrison’s eye’s made Salazar believe he would be getting what he asked for. 

 

“That is quite the list of titles.” Salazar’s drawl made Harry flush a bit, it was a bit excessive, but it’s not like he went looking for any of them, aside from his mantle as Dark Lord Markandeya. “How is it that you hold both the lordship for my family as well as Godric’s?” It was a fair question, the odds of that happening were infinitesimal.

 

“Well, I hold Gryffindor by claim of blood, but your family title I won by conquest.” Salazar narrowed his eyes at that. Winning a title by conquest could only happen when the last of a bloodline was defeated in battle. Harry had just admitted to ending the Slytherin line, that heir would be the last to carry his family magics. 

 

“Are there others of your bloodline back in your time, or have you single handedly ended not only my family line, but Godric’s as well?” Harry scowled at the accusation. While he had ended the Slytherin line, that had been out of necessity of his survival, and he had not intended to time travel, leaving his time without an heir of Gryffindor decent.

 

“I was the last of my bloodline, though it was your heir that saw to that so do not be so quick in your judgement of me.” Angry green eyes glared in warning at the young founder, further accusations would not be tolerated. “Perhaps you would allow me to give you the explanation you desired before you begin to vilify me.”  _ I promise you there are better reasons than that for you to do so.  _ Harry thought bitterly to himself. Though, it was a decent assumption that Salazar Slytherin would agree with his reasoning for becoming a Dark Lord. 

 

Salazar mentally chagrined himself for alienating the young Lord before him so fast. He wanted to unveil his many layered history, not push the man away without the chance to understand him. Though the thought that the green eyes beauty before him was the cause for the end of both his and one of his closest friend’s bloodlines rubbed him the wrong way.  “I apologize Lord Markandeya,” He chose the title first given to him to address the young Lord. “I will listen to what you have to say before coming to my conclusions of your character. Perhaps you would like to continue this conversation in my chambers?” Despite being the middle of August, pre-dawn in Scotland tended to be cold, and Salazar would much prefer returning inside now that he had the assurance of Lord Markandeya's vow.

 

Harry’s eyes softened from his glare at the apology. “Lead the way, Lord Slytherin.” With a wave of Salazar’s wand the gates admitted them entry. Neither men spoke as they made their way up the path to the front doors. They were met in the entrance hall by a lovely blond woman whose magical aura, upon Harry’s inspection, was one of the lightest he had ever seen. She was also, much like Salazar, immensely powerful. If the other two founders held power such as this, it was no wonder the wards, and the school in general, were so impressive. 

 

“Salazar, I was worried when you took so long to come back. I take it this here is who the wards were picking up on?” Harry bristled a bit at being talked about when she could have very well asked him directly, but forcibly calmed himself down. It would do him little good to get upset over something so minor. 

 

“There was no reason to be worried Helga, I was merely having a conversation with our guest here.” He turned to look at Harry. “Lord Harrison Markandeya, please meet my friend and co-founder of the school, Lady Helga Hufflepuff.” Harry gave her a bow that was accurate for a lady of her status in the future, and hoped that wizarding tradition, like it’s wardrobe,  had not changed all that much. 

 

“Oh leave all that posturing for someone who cares Salazar.” With a genial smile she walked up to Harry. “You may call me Helga, no need for bowing and all that rubbish around me, when not in a formal setting that is.” She actually winked at him, surprising a laugh out of the time traveler. 

“I can appreciate the sentiment Helga, feel free to call me Harry.” His smile was genuine and slightly disarming in its brightness. Salazar struggled to keep himself from openly staring. 

 

“Helga, I will bring our guest back up for breakfast with the others, however, we have much to discuss at the moment. Lord Markandeya if you would please follow me.” With a small parting bow to Helga, who rolled her eyes in return, Salazar made his way towards one of the many staircases into the lower levels of the castle. 

 

Harry jokingly bowed nearly in half, taking Helga’s hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “My Lady, meeting you was an absolute pleasure, I look forward to dinner.” With a conspiratorial smirk and exaggerated flourish, he spun on his heel and headed after Salazar, Helga’s laughter following him down the stairs. Said man was waiting for him at the bottom of the first staircase and continued his path towards his quarters once Harry had caught up to him. 

 

“It would appear that you have won Helga’s favor, not that that is a terribly difficult thing to do.” Harry wasn’t entirely sure how Salazar was hoping he would respond to that, so he simply nodded in response. After another minute or so of walking, they were in a portion of the dungeons that Harry did not recognize from his time at school, not that he really spent much time in them anyway. With a hissed password of  _ ~hearth~  _ in parseltongue part of the wall opened into a doorway leading to a lavishly decorated living space. There were two other doorways leading from the main space, one that lead to a kitchen and another that lead to a small hallway with more doors. The main room was a living space not unlike one of the school common rooms. The walls were lined with book cases and a set of chairs and a couch were sat around a coffee table facing the fireplace. “Have a seat Lord Markandeya.” Harry did as he was told, but huffed at the forced formality from the young founder. He hadn’t thought anything of it until Helga had made her point. 

 

“You know  _ Lord Slytherin  _ this formality is not entirely in line with the informality I am about to express in my explanation to you. I would prefer if you too referred to me by my given name.” Salazar thought on that before coming to a silent agreement. Internally he was also pleased by the turn of events. He had found himself slightly envious of how well Helga got on with the intriguing young man in such a short amount of time. He was glad that their slightly tense introduction did not keep Harrison from extending a similar offer of familiarity to him as he had to Helga. 

 

“Quite right Harrison, feel free to use mine as well. Now, would you like some tea? I can have an elf bring a set.” He sat himself on the armchair directly across from the one Harry had sat himself in. At the young lord’s nod in agreement he called for a tea service and got settled after making himself a cup, watching as Harry did the same. Once done, he leaned back in his armchair to study the other man while he spoke. What he knew of Harrison so far was fascinating on its own, he couldn’t wait to get the whole story. 

 

“As I mentioned outside the final Slytherin Heir of my time is the reason I was the last of the Gryffindor line. His name was Tom Marvolo Riddle and he grew to be one of the most feared Dark Lords in known history. Tom took up the mantle of Lord Voldemort in the late 1960’s. His cause was that of the superiority of Dark Magic over Light Magic and the inferiority of witches and wizards from non-magical parents.” He looked to Salazar at this, curious as to whether or not the ideals of the Slytherin house had indeed stemmed from its heir. To his surprise, he actually scoffed. 

 

“What does someone’s parentage have to do with the quality of their magic?” Salazar looked honestly confused, which in turn made Harry confused. 

 

“The idea was that those from magical families bred children with stronger magic and muggle born children were inherently weaker. That and the slow integration of muggle ideals and practices into the wizarding world brought in by muggle borns was seen as a taint on our magical heritage.” Salazar looked thoughtful at that last point, one which Harry himself actually agreed with to a point. Change was good, but that did not mean that muggle ideals should overtake tradition, only join them in society. 

 

“I think that muggle born children are very different in your time. Now a days if a child shows signs of magic to muggle parents they most often end up dead. The problems of your future are foreign to me as there are rarely children that grow old enough to have muggle ideals to spread to the magical community. Are witch burnings no longer a thing in your day?” Harry shivered at the thought of Hermione being burned to death as a small child. Though, he could understand the mentality of parents now that allowed them to off their own relation, it was the same one that the Dursleys had held for him. 

 

“Witch burnings will end in a little over a century with the founding of the ministry of magic and the statute of secrecy to separate a further from the muggle world. Salazar, what is your opinion of muggles?” Salazar thought on the question a moment before answering. 

 

“I think that they are fearful beings capable of great violence and we are best off staying as far from them as possible.” Considering what they were doing to witches in this era, Harry couldn’t help but agree. 

 

“Well at some point you expressed that sentiment in a way that lead to the pureblood elitism of my day. Most of Voldemort’s followers were in your house during school. But that is of no matter at this point. Basically he had an army, a group of marked followers he branded as his Death Eaters, who spent nearly a decade causing death and destruction to muggles, muggle-borns and any and all supporters of the Light. A year before I was born in 1980 there was a prophecy made naming me the future vanquisher of the dark lord. Having caught enough of the prophecy to know that I was a danger to him, Voldemort found where my parents and I were hidden and on Halloween night 1981 I became both The-Boy-Who-Lived and an orphan. He killed my parents, but when he tried to kill me the killing cure failed.” Harry pointed to his scar that suddenly made a lot more sense to Salazar, the mark of death indeed. “He was not really dead however, I won’t go into details but what’s important is that he was still alive. Fast forward to my eleventh birthday, I received my Hogwarts letter and went to school. During my time as a student I faced him five times. Once at age eleven, once at age twelve, once at age fourteen, once at age fifteen and finally at age seventeen where I killed him. So you see, I did not go looking to end your line, rather I was hounded by your heir until I either died myself or offed him.” The stubborn gleam in his eye was back and, now having heard the story, Salazar felt a bit abashed at his previous words. 

 

“You were correct in saying I was wrong to judge you before I understood the circumstances of your conquest. Please continue Harrison.” If he was slightly flushed from embarrassment it was too dim in the room to tell. Harry took a sip from his cup before continuing. 

 

“After I vanquished the Dark Lord at the tender age of seventeen I was quickly caught up in the Ministry’s newfound sense of injustice against all things Dark. Anything and anyone even remotely Dark was killed without a second thought. Entire families were being killed, their young children included. Magical creatures from werewolves to thestrals were hunted down like mindless beasts. I, as the vanquisher of the last Dark Lord, was deemed too dangerous to continue to live. How could I have possibly done what no others had done at only seventeen years old if I had not used Dark Magic.” The sneer on his face was absolutely venomous. “My dear friends sided with the ministry, not wanting to oppose the new government, leaving me with few options. It was either allow them to kill me, or become what they accused me of being. Can you guess which I chose Salazar?”

 

Salazar shivered at the dark and, dare he say, seductive tone that the question was asked in. He thought back to the rolling swathes of dangerous dark magic that had poured off the man across from him. The magic was still there, though it was now dampened by the powerful magic that the school was practically made of. When he focused however, he could feel Harrison’s power swirling lazily around him, it was exactly the type of dark hypnotic power one would expect from a dark lord. 

 

“I have a feeling that your title of Lord is not simply by birthright.” Salazar answer came in a quiet tone that matched the sudden heady tension in the room. Harry chuckled darkly at Salazar response. 

 

“Quite right you are. I took the mantle as the leader of the Dark faction. I lead dark wizards and creatures alike towards our goal of tearing down the ministry where is stood and building it back up from the ashes. For five years I fought this war and despite everything we did they were stronger. Our numbers were already cut down from Voldemorts madness and we had become desperate. I was in the depths of the Department of Mysteries looking for artifacts that could help our side when I was caught by an Unspeakable, they're very well trained wizards and witches. I made the mistake of subduing him instead of killing him and he threw a blasting curse at me. I dodged it but the spell hit a case of what I know as Time Sand and the next thing I know I'm waking up in the middle of a 13th century castle yard.” The frustration was evident in Harry's voice. He blamed himself for his miscalculation. “Not to sound arrogant, but without me there is no hope of the Dark winning this war. They will be wiped out entirely while I’m stuck here sitting on my hands doing nothing.” 

  
Until this point Harrison’s composure had been nearly inhuman. But right then he looked just like the twenty three year old wizard, struggling under the pressure of the fate of the world on his shoulders that he was. The wizard that had been carrying this weight on his own consciously since he was eleven and had been saddled with before he was even born. Just as quickly as the fracture in his stoic facade had appeared, it was sealed back up again, leaving no signs of it ever having been there past Salazar’s own mental assurance that he had seen exactly what he thought he saw. Harrison James Potter, Dark Lord Markandeya, Lord Potter, Lord Black, Lord Peverell, Lord Gryffindor, Lord Slytherin, was the single most interesting person that Salazar ever had a hope of meeting and he was thrilled at the opportunity in front of him to help Harrison achieve his goal, to have a hand in literally changing the future for the better. Salazar made a silent vow to himself that he would help fix, not only the future, the man who sat across from him as well. The Fates smiled down at him as with that goal Salazar would help repay Harry for all the bad hands they had given the boy throughout his life, for once, The Fates were on Harry’s side. 


	2. Meeting the in-laws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harrison meets the other three founders and goes a little more in depth with his history.

By the time Harry had finished his story it was an hour until breakfast. Having fought in a duel, traveled nearly 800 years into the past and then trekked nearly five kilometers through the forbidden forest, Harry was feeling rather grimy. He could have just cast a few cleaning charms, but given that he had time, he figured asking Salazar where he could wash up wouldn’t be too much of an issue. 

 

“Is there somewhere I could wash up and change? I would like to freshen up before meeting the rest of your fellows.” Salazar nodded in ascension. 

 

“Yes, there is a bathing room a few doors down from my chambers, I will lead you there.” Salazar stood and lead Harry out of his chambers and through door at the end of the corridor. Harry gazed around the room with appreciation. It was a large pool like bath that reminded Harry of the Prefect’s bath in his time, only from what Harry could tell, this bath was run by ground water, perhaps even a natural hot spring. He took a moment to find some soap in his bag, before casually stripping, totally ignoring that Salazar had yet to leave the room yet. 

 

Harry peeled off his shirt first, baring a very well toned, and quite scarred, torso. Salazar allowed himself to enjoy the view for all of ten seconds before forcibly removing himself from the room. Had he stayed any longer he would have been tempted to join the younger man and Harry had yet to show any inclination that he was interested in the founder so that would have been untoward. 

 

In the bathing room Harry had stripped completely and was enjoying the hot water as well as the steam. He was careful not to take too long, as he knew he had to be ready in time for breakfast, and he wanted to make a good first impression on the last two founders. Once clean Harry performed a well practiced braiding charm that kept his hair out of his face without him having to tie it up entirely. He was methodical in the well-practiced reapplication of his wand holsters. Having put away his battle clothes he chose an outfit more suited for his current setting, in that it was much more traditional. A flowing, forest green tunic was worn over a pair of black, dragonhide pants, which were in turn, tucked into dark green dragonhide boots. On his hip hung a goblin made sword. It had been forged for him personally when the Goblin Nation pledged their allegiance to him in the third war. It was a beautiful thing, forged from shining goblin steel. From the hilt unto the blade itself was an intricate design in the likeness of fiendfyre, more specifically the dark creatures that the curse took the form of. There were no gems imbedded in the design, instead it’s value came from the source of its poisonous green tint, Basilisk venom imbued within the blade while it was still glowing red hot. Sheathed as it was, the odd color of the blade was unnoticable, when drawn, it was usually too late to rethink challenging him. 

 

Seeing as it was mid August, Harry did not bother donning a cloak before returning to Salazar’s chambers. He knocked on the portrait door, not using the password, even though he could have. He planned on keeping his parseltongue ability a secret for now, he had a feeling he would thank himself later. 

 

Salazar gave the time traveler an appreciative look upon opening his door. While the man had looked quite ruggedly appealing before, he now looked like a man with five lordships, six if you count his status as a Dark Lord. Salazar doubted  _ that  _ title would go over terribly well with either Godric or Helga, so he would leave it up to Harrison to decide if he would reveal it or not. 

 

“If you are ready, we can head up to the great hall now.” Salazar’s smooth baritone broke the silence between them. Upon receiving a nod from Harry, he swept out of his rooms in a way that would have put Severus Snape to shame. “You have already met Helga, so I will give you some advice for meeting the other two. Firstly, always listen to what Rowena says, she enjoys speaking in riddles, but she is almost always correct in her observations. Secondly, Godric can be a bit… much, though if you can see past his exuberance he makes for a fine friend.”  

 

Harry laughed. “Believe it or not I was in Gryffindor house during my time here as a student, I am no stranger to boisterous fellows.” Salazar quirked an eyebrow at that. Godric’s sorting hat had been created to place incoming students where they would best thrive. Those under Godric’s care tended to be brash and daring children, two things the young man beside him was not. Salazar tried to imagine Harrison as a young bright eyed Gryffindor student and found it to be a difficult task.  _ How much he must have changed for those wars.  _ He couldn’t help but muse. 

 

“Then I’m sure you’ll get on splendidly. Though I must admit, I struggle to imagine you as a young Gryffindor.” Harry chuckled at that. He never really had been a bold and true Gryffindor, he had too much cunning for that, and the hat had agreed. That’s not to say that he did not adapt to the wild and daring attitude so prevalent in his house.

 

“If it makes you feel any better I had to coerce the hat into placing me there. It thought me better suited for your house and, being a naive eleven year old, I disagreed.” Salazar blinked at that, having been unaware you even  _ could  _ argue with the hat, but ended up just humming in acknowledgement, not outwardly showing his surprise. 

 

“You have so far displayed traits I would most often attribute to members of my house, but I've not known you long so I'm sure I'll see some show of your more Gryffindor side eventually. You are of his bloodline.” Harry chuckled at that. 

 

“I am indeed. However most traits taught to me in my time at school have been unlearned due to necessity.” Salazar hummed in acknowledgement as they finally reached the Great Hall. The room was set up quite differently than Harry had ever seen it. There were, instead of four long tables, a plethora of smaller round tables.

 

Already sat at one of the tables towards the back of the room was Helga and a tall dark haired woman Harry assumed to be Rowena. The two were conversing as they filled their plates. Godric did not arrive until after Harry and Salazar had already sat down. Rowena had given him an odd look but refrained from asking questions until the last of their fellows had arrived. 

 

“Blessed morn to you all!” Godric bellowed with much more enthusiasm than the early hour called for. “I see we have a guest this morning.” Despite being a statement, the quirk of his eyebrow showed it to be more of an inquiry. Salazar dipped his head to acknowledge the question. 

 

“Helga and I were woken this morning by a disturbance on the outer wards, I went down to check it out and found the disturbance to be a non-hostile wizard-” He nodded towards Harry, “who has some rather interesting circumstances if I say so myself.” The other three looked quite interested at this point, seeing as Salazar was rarely intrigued enough about something to openly admit that he was interested.  

 

“He has traveled from quite far, yet knows this place as home.” Rowena cut in with a questioning glance towards Harry. Her dark eyes studied him in a much more clinical manner than Salazar’s had earlier. Helga and Godric looked perplexed by Rowena’s statement while Harry just looked like a deer caught in the headlights. 

 

“How could you-” He cut himself off, remembering Salazar’s advice on their walk up. “That is technically accurate.” At this Godric proved to be too lost to keep quiet. 

 

“Would you mind explaining so the rest of us understand, and perhaps also grant us with your name?” Harry blushed a little upon realizing he had not been properly introduced to half of the founders. 

 

“I apologize. I am Harrison Markandeya, and I am not of this era.” While Helga and Godric continued to look puzzled, Rowena was nodding as if the statement had confirmed something she already knew. 

 

“How many years from the future are you from?” Rowena asked, clarifying his statement for the other two, who now gasped in understanding. 

 

“Almost exactly 800 if I have the year correct. I was born in 1980 and was sent here from 2003.” Even Rowena looked surprised by that, obviously having not known the length of his trip through time. 

 

“How did this happen? And why did you come here?” Helga asked, finally adding her two pence. She had thought the young man’s clothing was odd upon meeting him earlier, but this was unprecedented. 

 

“I was in a duel in the wrong place and an artifact used for controlled time travel behind me was destroyed. The resulting explosion sent me to this time. I arrived in a non-magical castle keep and, knowing the dangers of this era, came to the one place I knew should be safe and inhabited by other magicals, here.” Helga nodded along with his explanation. 

 

“So you went to school here then? Hogwarts still stands 800 years in the future?” Harry was hesitant to tell Godric about the damage to the school in Voldemort’s second war, but refrained from lying, as it would not be a good basis for his relationship with the founder. Harry’s hesitance was not lost on the four founders, even Salazar looked curious, not having been told this yet. 

 

“I did go to school here, I was in your house actually, but I grew up during a time of war, and towards the end of my seventh year here the final battle actually took place on the castle grounds. The castle is still standing, but I left five years after that battle and while the school is running, they are still working to restore parts of it, not to mention the damage to the wards.” The founders had mixed reactions to this. Godric was studying him closer, obviously looking for signs that he had been to war, Rowena looked to be lost in thought, her eyes cloudy and unfocused, Helga looked like she was going to cry and Salazar just looked angry, probably because it was his own heir that damaged their precious school so. 

 

“Did you grow up in a time of war, or did you grow up fighting a war?” Godric asked with surprisingly shrewd eyes. They flicked to his chest at the question, confusing Harry until he remembered that the tunic he was wearing had a fairly low v-neck and some of his scars were showing, most predominantly the horcrux scar right below his collarbones on the center of his chest. He absentmindedly traced his fingers over it, drawing the attention of the other three founders to the mark. 

 

“You’re very astute, Godric… My parents were killed by the enemy when I was one, I went to live with my mother’s sister’s family until I went to Hogwarts at eleven and was immediately thrown right back into the war. I have more scars than this one for my trouble.” With a small frown he rubbed one in particular before turning to Salazar. “You wouldn’t happen to have, or plan on having, a Basilisk in the school, do you?” Salazar looked at him wide eyed for a moment before nodding slowly. Harry groaned and put his head in his arms on the table. 

 

“Why do you ask?” Salazar asked warily, wondering how Harry could know about Alyssa. Harry just groaned again before sitting back up and pulling up his left sleeve where there was a large circular scar that, when he turned his arm around, Salazar recognized as a puncture wound from, assumingly, a descendant of his Basilisk. 

 

“Because I was almost killed by one in the school when I was twelve.” He deadpanned, not seeing the fright in Helga’s eye. 

 

“How in the world are you even alive after that?” The blonde exclaimed. Harry just chuckled and shook his head a bit. 

 

“Pure dumb luck and some help from a phoenix friend of mine.” Upon receiving a round of questioning looks he explained further. “The headmaster of our school at the time had a phoenix named Fawkes as a familiar, when I was stuck down in the Chamber Fawkes came to the rescue carrying the sorting hat of all things, when lo and behold, out of the hat came…” Harry paused and leaned around the table to get a look at the sword on Godric’s hip, which he immediately recognized and pointed to. “...that sword, which I then used to defend myself. Here’s where the pure dumb luck comes in, the snake went to take off my arm and I stabbed it through the root of it’s mouth, getting a fang through my arm for my trouble.” Godric looked mildly impressed while Salazar looked a bit ill. “Lucky me, I had a phoenix there to cry on the wound and keep me from dying a rather painful death at the age of twelve.”

 

“Why were you even in a position to face off Alyssa at age twelve?” Salazar couldn’t help but inquire. He had made it so the only way into his chamber was by way of a parseltongue warded entrance, Alyssa would not have been able to leave the chamber without aid.

 

Harry looked at Salazar and with a resigned sigh turned back to the rest of the group. “To answer that I need to fill the rest of you in on my rather… untraditional upbringing.” Godric and Helga leaned in a bit in interest, while Rowena just gave him another of her looks that lead him to believe she knew more than should be possible. “I told Salazar most of my history earlier this morning so it is only fair I share with the three of you as well.” 

 

Salazar was once again looking curiously at Harrison. He wondered if the young man knew enough to keep his mouth shut about being a Dark Lord. He rather hoped he was, as Godric would demand his expulsion from the castle were he to find out. If that happened Salazar would lose his chance to study the young lord.

 

“Basically there was a rather powerful Dark lord running amuck in the mid-to-late twentieth century who called himself Lord Voldemort. At the height of his reign a Prophecy was made about a child that would be born to parents who had thrice defied him who would have the power to vanquish him once and for all. I was that child.” Looking around the table he found that he had the complete attention of all four of the founders, including Salazar, despite the fact that he had already heard this once before. 

 

Salazar, for his part, was both relieved and slightly confused that Harrison had not mentioned the fact that the Dark Lord in question was his descendant. He was thankful nonetheless and decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth by drawing attention to the skipped detail. 

 

“He attacked the home my family and I were hidden away in and as stated in the Prophecy, he found himself unable to kill me, though his attempt did orphan me at one and a half years.” Helga gave him a look of pity that he struggled not to sneer at. Despite her good intentions he  _ loathed  _ pity in any shape or form. “He threw a killing curse at me which backfired one him due to some obscure sacrificial Mother’s Magic my mum performed as he killed her. It left him as a bodiless wraith and me with this scar.” He pointed to the lightning bolt on his brow. 

 

Both Rowena and Salazar were intrigued at the mention of Mother’s Magic, but were patient enough to wait for the end of his tale to ask. 

 

Harry debated whether or not to mention his relatives, but decided to go for it, if only to invoke some sympathy from the more soft hearted of the quartet. “I was placed with my maternal Aunt, who, seeing as my mother was muggle-born, was non-magical herself. Unfortunately no one bothered to actually ask her if she was willing to take in her magical sisters spawn and left me on their doorstep with a note. Needless to say I am quite lucky that witch burnings have been out of practice for quite a few years in my time, as I am sure she would not have hesitated to do so were is still socially acceptable. I truly think the only reason I wasn’t drowned as a child was the fact that they seemed to think the magicals that dropped me with them would retaliate.” Helga, soft hearted woman that she was looked positively ill, as did Godric to a degree, though he hid it better. Rowena still had her eerie unfocused look in her eyes, though there was a frown on her face as she glanced over to Salazar. It was Salazar’s response that surprised him. He regretted not telling the man earlier so he could openly ask why the man was so angry at hearing about his childhood. While it was horrific, they did not know each other well enough for the anger to be entirely on his behalf. It made him wonder if Salazar had a more personal reason to hear about the atrocities muggles could perform.

 

Harry’s thought process wasn’t too far off, though a good amount of the anger  _ was  _ on his behalf. Salazar had been rescued off a pyre by Rowena when he was much younger. She herself had only been a teenager, but a magically raised one at that. She had risked showing her own power to steal him away. The thought of this magnificent example of a powerful wizard being snuffed out before his potential was ever reached struck a chord in the dark man’s heart. 

 

Shaking himself out of the brief melancholy, Harry continued his tale. “I am unsure how things work now, but in my time all of us eligible for Hogwarts are sent a letter inviting us to the school when we are eleven during the summer before term. It was at this point that I re-entered the magical world. Now, as I mentioned before, Voldemort did not die, but rather was rendered a spirit without a host. In my first year he found a host in my Defense Professor.” The founders looked rightly horrified at the thought. “The end of that school year was the second time I faced off with him and rendered him without a host, mostly due to the Mother’s Magic still on my person. Second year was very much the same, I met him at the end of the year. He had once again possessed someone, using them to free the basilisk and ‘purify the school of the unworthy’, the unworthy being muggle-borns and Light supporters. Basically he was draining the life out of a first year in order to get his body back, I found him out before he could finish, he sicked the basilisk on me. I only survived out of sheer dumb luck. Our Headmaster at the time had a phoenix as a familiar, Fawks. The bird came to my aid during the fight, blinding the snake before it could kill me and dropping off the sorting hat of all things. Confused, I put on the hat, onl for a bloody sword to fall out onto my head. It wasn’t until after all the commotion, getting bitten and healed and all that, that I realized I exactly what sword I had used.” He looked a little proud as he turned to Godric. “As your last remaining descendant I was able to call upon your sword, Godric.” 

 

Godric looked blankly at him for a moment before grinning like a madman. “You took on a basilisk at twelve to stop a dark lord… you are certainly of my bloodline Harrison.” Harry blushed a little at the comment. 

 

“The rest of my story is along the same vein. I faced him again at fourteen, when he finally regained his body and was able to rekindle the war in full. I met him and his people for the first time in true combat at fifteen with a group of my friends and then spent most of what would have been my seventh year here on the run from him and his people fighting little skirmished here and there. We actually got captured once… let’s just say their hospitality had a lot to be desired.” He cringed as he remembered Hermione’s pained screams as Bellatrix tortured her. “May second 1998 was the date of the battle I mentioned that caused so much damage to the school, and it was also the day I finally killed the bastard.”

 

“You have seen such pain in your years Harrison, much more than most do in a lifetime.” Rowena’s eyes were sharp as she said this, the unseeing quality he had been getting used to absent for the moment. She really reminded him of- wait…

 

“Are you perhaps an Omnia Seer Rowena? I only ask because you remind me quite scarily of my good friend Luna.” Lady Ravenclaw gave him a dreamy smile for an answer, but was otherwise silent. The others seemed a little thrown by the sudden change of topic. After a moment of silence, Godric clapped his hands, startling the rest of the group out of their stupor. 

 

“Well, it sounds like you could use a place to stay Harrison. I’m sure all of us agree you could stay here while you figure out what you plan to do, be it, look for a way back to your time or get settled here in the thirteenth century.” Harry couldn’t help but smile at that, he had been hoping he would be offered that, but had not allowed himself to dwell too much on it just in case it didn’t happen. 

 

“As long as the rest of you agree, I would love to take you up on your offered hospitality. After all, I called this castle home for many years back in my time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to comment with any suggestions. I am looking for a beta, if anyone is interested message me on tumblr @queenofallhell
> 
> cheers!

**Author's Note:**

> So, yay? Nay? Should i just go back to the two fics I'm already writing and stop dicking around? I love this plot, we'll see where it goes!


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